You've Kept Me Waiting,
by NikkiNie
Summary: A bell signals the opening of the door. A man arrives. So familiar and yet a stranger. Face and neck donned by a crisscrossing pattern of small bite marks. Shoulders held high with tension. His eyes are darting around the room. Cataloguing. Black eyes meet hers and– "Would you like a refill?" The door is still closed. Oneshot of the first meeting between Alice and Jasper


**Twilight is owned by Stephenie Meyer. I own nothing.**

**A bell signals the door's opening. A man is coming in. So familiar and yet a stranger. Face and neck donned by a crisscrossing pattern of small puncture wounds. Shoulders held high with tension. Hands clenched into fists. His eyes are darting around the room. Cataloguing. Black eyes meet hers and–**

**"Would you like a refill?"**

**The door is still closed. **

**Oneshot of the first meeting between Alice and Jasper**

Alice is looking at the door. It's white with a small square window making it possible to see the cascades of rain pouring down the streets. There is nobody out there.

_A bell signals the door's opening. A man is coming in. So familiar, and yet a stranger. Face and neck donned by a crisscrossing pattern of small puncture wounds. Shoulders held high with tension. Hands clenched into fists. His eyes are darting around the room. Cataloguing. Black eyes meet hers and- _

"Would you like a refill?"

The door is still closed.

Alice slowly turns to look at the waitress – she's wearing a blue uniform. It's hideous.  
There's a thin layer of film over the brown, slushy liquid in her cup. The kind that comes when something has been standing for a while.

"No, thanks," she looks back at the door.

_A man is coming in. Donned by scars. Shoulders tense, clenched fists. Eyes darting around the room. Black eyes and- _

"Just holler if you need anything then," the waitress is walking towards the bar, her black ponytail swinging for every step.  
Alice doesn't answer.

_A man. Tense. Black eyes–_

Possibilities.

–_tearing._

–_running._

–_ignoring._

–_kissing._

Alice shakes her head. When she lets go of her cup, coffee is steadily pouring out of a crack right where her thumb was. She leaves it.

_A bell signals the door's opening. A man is coming in. Face and neck donned by a crisscrossing pattern of small puncture wounds. Shoulders held high with tension. Hands clenched into fists. His eyes are darting around the room. Cataloguing. Black eyes meet hers and- _

She tries to concentrate. What's next? What does she have to do?  
She makes a decision.

–_he is there in the blink of an eye. A hand on her throat, squeezing. Fingers boring their way into–_

She changes her mind.

–_the man freezes before backing out the door, black eyes never leaving Alice's. She's standing up, trying to follow. He's gone._

One more time.

–_the man walks towards her slowly. Like the humans they're surrounded by. He grips her arm. Hard. It hurts. She's forced out of the diner, the man's grip only ever tightening–_

Decisions. Decisions.

The bell signals the door's opening. Adrenaline shoots through her. As if the bell is connected directly to her body.  
She knows it isn't him, though. The man she's been waiting for. A short, dark haired teen comes in. He smiles at Alice, as he catches her looking. She ignores it. Him. He isn't important. She doesn't want him to come over, thinking he has a chance.

She's so close. She knows it will happen today. It has to. She cannot bear more waiting.

People try talking to her. Usually she gives them a distant smile and a short reply. But what if she misses his entrance? The moment that's going to define the rest of her life.  
She doesn't acknowledge them. She cannot. All aspects of her mind are focused on him. The man that's going to make her future. This is too important. She can't mess up.

_A man is walking down the street. His body is drenched in rain, but he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are black, like ink. You could drown in them. He makes a decision._

A bell signals the door's opening. A man is coming in. So familiar, and yet a stranger. Face and neck donned by a crisscrossing pattern of small puncture wounds. Shoulders held high with tension. Hands clenched into fists. His eyes are darting around the room. Cataloguing. Black eyes meet hers and-

She can't think anymore. Because he is here, and so incredibly beautiful. Clenched jaw, highlighting the sharp contour of his face. Wet hair, sticking to his cheeks and curling at his neck. Black eyes, boring into her soul, as if he she's a mesmerizing movie or a stupefying puzzle.  
He is so much more than what she has seen. Nothing can compare. A warm feeling is spreading through her body. She's about to float. All human mannerisms are forgotten. She's not blinking–she doesn't want to miss a single second of her time with him. Because he is here. Right in front of her.

Her body makes its way over to him before she gives it permission to do so.

"You've kept me waiting a long time," her voice doesn't betray the tumultuous fireworks inside of her. She is brimming with the feeling of everything–the humming of the people in the diner talking. The aroma of the most delicious meal she can imagine. The smell of newly brewed coffee. The slightly sour aftertaste of animal blood.  
But mostly she can feel him. The smell of rain clinging to him, like a blanket of freshness. The feeling of something prickling at her emotions. The slight vibrations in the air from recent movement. The drip-drop of rain falling from his hair and clothes onto the linoleum flooring.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." He bows his head.

She holds out her hand. A question.

Her elation cannot remain inside her body. She's about to sprout wings and fly away, holding onto him forever.

He takes it. Agreeing.

His hand is nice and big with long fingers. Her hand fits perfectly into it. She's safe.  
A blanket of belonging and home settles over her body from the place their skin touches. She's in another world - nothing can reach her here. This is worth the wait. He is worth the wait. Worth everything.


End file.
